Miss Samantha and Her Man the Hunter
by NastifaceX
Summary: Life isn't going so great for Sam Evans, until a mysterious stranger picks him up outside of 7/11. Then he embarks on a trip around the US, fighting mythical monsters and becoming Miss Samantha. But will happen when Sam comes back? MtF transformation.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Has there been an episode of Glee where two smokin' hot brothers in an Impala show up to beat up monsters and sex up the Glee club? No? Well, then, whadaya know! I **_**don't**_** own Supernatural and Glee after all!**

**Warnings: language (c'mon y'all, this is me and Dean!), teenage drinking, sex and rough sex(the best part), violence (the next best part), and slight "blink and you'll miss it" Suck, or, Puck/Sam. Also, there will be slight dub-con, slight dub-con feminization, a bit of what looks like prostitution, and a lil' tiny bit of dom/sub and…let's not uncover all the goodies, right?**

Normally, Sam would be ashamed to be here, standing outside a Seven-Eleven trying to look like a lost puppy and hoping someone would be sympathetic and shady enough to buy him a drink. So far though, he'd gotten five numbers, three from hot girls, one from an obvious madam*, and the last from a shifty guy who kept glancing meaningfully at an alley. Sam wasn't sure he really wanted to know what _that_ guy wanted.

But really, Sam wasn't interested in sex. Okay, yes, he knew he sounded more like an alien from Mars, and less like the healthy teenage boy he was, but really, sex was drama, and Sam had no room in his life for that. Even if he had a one night stand, the girl might possibly get pregnant, and with Mom already pregnant again, that would be just one, two more mouths to feed.

Also, Sam wasn't trying to be conceited or anything, but what if the girl decided she wanted more, like say, a relationship? Well, after the whole Quinn/Finn fiasco, he was of the mind that he just didn't anything like _that_ again in his life.

Besides, Sam felt…tired. Not physically, no, today was not a gym or football practice day, but Sam just felt…drained. He didn't feel like getting to whatever place this hypothetical girl might want to hook-up, and he certainly didn't feel like snapping on a condom and getting busy. He just wanted to lay somewhere and being drunk or at least slightly buzzed seemed like a good option as well.

So here he was, standing by the door like a dejected puppy. No one was falling for it, except a sweet little girl about Stacie's age, who gave him one of her lollipops and a wide, gap-toothed grin. Sam sighed and shifted his weight.

Just then, a shiny black, very well taken care of, 1967 Chevy Impala vroomed* up to the curb. Now Sam wasn't exactly as crazy about cars as most of his fellow male classmates and peers, but as soon as he laid eyes on that vehicle, he fell head over heels in love.

The guy who stepped out immediately intrigued Sam. His hair was sandy, about the color of Sam's real hair without the lemon juice*, but the guy's hair was short, and spiky on top. He wore a badass leather jacket, just as badass ripped up jeans, and not the store bought rips, and even more badass, "well loved", as his mother would say, clunky, combat boots. Under his jacket he wore an open red plaid flannel shirt, and the classic black AC/DC t-shirt.

But that wasn't what really caught Sam's attention. What caught him and held him was the way the man held himself. He held himself like a well-trained soldier pretending to be a civilian. Sam knew, because as a little boy, and even when he had the chance now, he spent every spare moment of family get-togethers studying every move and mannerism of Uncle Jesse, who everyone in the family knew was some sort of secret agent. * And this man, he had the same mannerisms as Uncle Jesses, even down to the quick 360 disguised as an innocently sudden and vicious neck itch that need to be scratched at just the right angle to provide coverage for a look around.

He caught Sam's eye as he strode towards the entrance, and for a moment he paused, as if he was about to stop and say something, but he just gave Sam an once-over and continued on into the store. The jock sighed again. He had hoped he'd be the one, but no dice. He stood for a couple minutes more, but was just about to give up the goat and head home when the same man walked out of the store again, a six-pack of beer and two bottles of whiskey in his hands.

"Here, kid, help me get this to my car, huh?" he muttered in a deep, gruff voice as he dumped the six-pack into Sam's arms. Sam gripped the pack with a surprised look on his face, but followed him to his car.

"Get in," he commanded, as he began to slide into his seat.

"Um, sir, I'm not…I can't just get in your car with you. I don't know who you are," Sam protested, still holding tightly unto the pack and wondering if he could make a run for it. The man shot him a "don't even think about it, kid" look and sighed, sounding annoyed.

"Dean," he grunted, then raised an eyebrow, prompting Sam to tell him his name. He quickly complied, as it was pretty obvious that this was a dangerous guy.

"Sam Evans, sir, but I still don't know you," Sam dared to add. Both of his eyebrows rose.

"I'm a police officer, kid, off duty," he added when he saw the blond teen's skeptical glance at his attire.

"Uh, no offence, sir, but I don't think a police officer would let a minor drink," Sam pointed out. His brows rose again and he cocked his head back, staring at the boy under half-closed eyes. There was a challenging look in his eyes.

"Maybe I was fired. Maybe it wasn't my fault. Maybe I'm just trying to spit in the face of the people who hurt me, even if it's just giving a fucking can of beer to a fucking kid. Maybe I just wanna do something so I don't feel like a fucking pussy*. Now get in the damn car!" his voice got louder with each sentence, the last one pretty much a shout, and Sam was glad the parking lot was practically empty.

He got in the damn car.

_TBC…_

**Author's Apologies: Yup, that's right, your eyes aren't tricking you, this **_**is**_** another story. Yay for your eyes! They're so good! You must be so proud; you should really get them a medal, a ribbon, some sort of prize…**

**Okay, fine, yes, I'm trying to distract you from my grievous failure as a fanfiction author. I can only throw myself at you feet and beg for mercy! Please, do not despair! Slowly, slowly, one day in the future, each and every story started by me will be completed, of this I have little to no doubt! Now, on to the fun part: story notes!**

**Asterisks:**

***a madam is basically a nice name for a female pimp**

***I don't actually know what color Sam's hair is supposed to be, but let's go with Dean's okay? Does anyone know if Chord Overstreet is a natural blond or not?**

***now, you may be thinking, **_**"hey, they shouldn't know that!"**_** well, yes, they can. One of my family members is a secret agent. He can't say what he does, or what branch, or whatever, but he does know martial arts and how to use a weapon.**

***I'll explain Dean's explanation later, kay?**

**Alright, so that seems to be it for the asterisks. So, yes, I know I have other stories to update, and someday, hopefully soon, they will be updated, but there is no denying my plot bunnies. The breed like…rabbits, LOL, and they're all trained by Sam Winchester to lethally use patented "Puppy Eyes of Doom". So yeah, don't blame me, blame the bunnies! They made me do it!**

**Oh yeah, and, as always, please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If you really look closely, squint one eye just right, and tilt you head 40 degrees to the right, you can see how I might, possibly, hopefully, conceivably, perhaps, maybe one day own the rights to these awesome shows…right?**

**Warning: Same as last chapter.**

The Impala rode like a dream, rumbling like a content tiger and heeded Dean's every command like a faithful dog. She leapt around each corner like a cat on the hunt, and the dyslexic boy couldn't contain his pleased sigh as he sank into her leather seats.

Dean shot him an amused yet approving glance, and returned his eyes to the road, making a quick turn and pulling into the American Family Motel parking lot.

"_This_ is where you're staying?" Sam asked incredulously. The look Dean gave him for that comment was annoyed once more.

"I know it's not the Ritz, but that's no reason to turn up your nose-"Here the teen cut him off hurriedly.

"It's not that! It's just…someone I know stays here…" he muttered, knowing from Dean's disbelieving look that the man knew he was lying.

"Sure, whatever, kid, just get the beer and let's go," Dean replied with a quick roll of his eyes. Sam followed obediently, which, he thought as they walked into the elevator, he found himself doing a lot with this man. Not that Sam thought himself one of those "rebellious teenagers", but normally he didn't follow someone around like a lost puppy. However, there was something about Dean…

"Y'know, kid, I've been thinking, you're right. I shouldn't just be giving you alcohol like this, even if I drank at you age," he speculatively said as he closed the room door behind them, turned around, and leaned on it. Sam gave him a suspicious look. Was this the part when the sadistic psychopath started laughing insanely over the naïve teenager's stupidity and pulled out a knife?

"Oh, relax, kid, I'm not gonna kill ya!" Dean laughed, having caught the boy's wary glance,"I just think you should work for it. I mean, that's how I got mine as a kid*."

"Firstly, it's _Sam_, not kid! And what kind of work exactly are you thinking of?" Sam asked as he glanced down, still suspicious, but wondering if the man might give him money as well as beer for whatever job he had in mind. When Dean didn't say anything, Sam looked up from the beer still cradled in his arms. His eyes were immediately drawn to the pretty obvious bump at Dean's groin. The blond's eyes widened and he began to frantically shake his head.

"Oh no! No, I am _NOT _doing, doing…_that!_ Not for a million bucks!" he protested. Dean shook his head, a tiny smile curling his lips and a terribly knowing glint shining in his green eyes.

"But I'm not offering you a million bucks_._ What I'm offering you is some booze, a safe place to stay when you get trashed, and just a little time to lose control, to let me take the lead. I'm just offering you a choice, Samuel. You can leave it, walk out that door, go back to your room, and never stop wondering what might have happened. _Or,_ you can take it, get down on your knees, suck my dick, and let me take care of you. What will it be, Sam?" the glint in his eyes grew brighter, and Sam already knew his choice before he made it. He set down the beer, got down on his hands and knees, and crawled over to Dean.

"Good boy," the man practically purred as he slid his hands into Sam's hair, "Now, get started, Sam, and let's see if you can earn your booze," he commanded, and Sam got to work.

His hands were shaking as he pulled down the zipper on the man's worn jeans. Then, he cupped the man's balls*, feeling how smooth* and full they were. He wanted to keep his eyes safely on the balls; he wanted to ignore the giant step into the unknown that was the erect dick quite literally hanging above his head. Dean's hands tightened slightly, and he knew he could stall no more.

Sam looked up, his blue eyes meeting the cock already reddening with blood. He looked up and down it, not sure how to proceed. A dry chuckle sounded above him, and he looked up to meet Dean's amused eyes.

"You don't know what to do, huh? Well…will you let me show you?" at the teen's nod, Dean continued, "Okay, but know this, kid, once I start, I ain't gonna stop. You just gotta trust that I know what you can take and what you can't."

Sam nodded again. For whatever reason, he trusted him, and something told him Dean had had more than enough blowjobs to know.

The sensations were hard to describe, and that the feelings that went along with them and got irrevocably twisted with them did nothing to help matters. He felt the sticky mushroom head slip past his lips into his mouth, weighing heavily on his tongue, and at the same moment he felt unsure and inexperienced. He felt the tightly gripping hands in his hair and the warning itching pressure of the head of Dean's dick touching the back of his throat, meanwhile he felt vulnerable, but trusting. And when he felt the salty, bittersweet pre-cum dripping into his mouth and sliding down his constricting throat, and heard Dean's helpless moans and grunts of pleasure and felt the shaking in the man's strong thighs, he felt powerful and strong.

Sam couldn't say how long he kneeled there, one hand absentmindedly fondling the man's balls, the other pulling at his own stiff dick while his puffy lips stretched tight around Dean's thick cock, and Dean's hums of pleasure filling the air. Finally, finally, when the building ache in his jaw became pretty uncomfortable, Dean's hands tightened even more, and he pulled his hips back, pulling his dick out of the blond boy's mouth with a "pop".

One of Dean's own hands gripped his cock, and he began to furiously stroke it, his eyes staring straight into Sam's. That seemed the last straw, and with a long echoing growl/groan that could possibly have been Sam's name, he came, his cum splattering all over the teen jock's face.

It was weird, a strange feeling, to have someone's spunk on his face. It was cooler than he expected, and dried surprisingly fast. Of course, he knew both of those things from frequent...ehem, _alone times,_ as it were, but he never really stopped to think about actual cum before getting jizzed on his face. He couldn't resist sliding his tongue out and swiping it on his red lips, pulling some of the white cum into his mouth with it as he retracted it. Dean groaned.

"Well, kid, I think you definitely earned your booze," his voice was gruff, and, strangely enough, when he said it in that rough, fucked-out voice, Sam found he didn't really mind being called "kid". The blond man straightened from his slumped position and carelessly pushed his jeans completely off of him as he walked over to the chair and plopped himself down. He patted his lap encouragingly, but then turned his attention to opening the bottle of whiskey. It only took a millisecond of consideration before Sam was removing his own unfastened jeans and boxers before following the man's path and plonking down on his naked lap.

The bottle was finally uncapped, and for a second Sam wondered if there were glasses around at all, before Dean simply put the bottle to his mouth and chugged down a mouthful. Sam watched longingly. The man seemed to notice, and gave a rough laugh.

"Guess you want your payment now, huh? Alrighty then, open up, sweetheart," his tone gave Sam a clue that things weren't about to be done the conventional way, but he just relaxed against the Dean's impressive chest and decided to roll with it.

Sure enough, he was right, for instead of passing him the bottle, Dean rather chugged another mouthful before gripping Sam's head and angling it just right for him to seal their lips together. He channeled the liquor bit by bit into Sam's waiting mouth, which was probably the only thing that kept him from choking. The whiskey burned, but somehow, Dean's full lips gently massaging his own soothed the burn.

So they slowly made progress in drinking the whole bottle, sharing whiskey kisses*, sucking it off of each other's tongues, and Dean was slowly, languidly, grinding his dick into Sam's ass. Sam began to feel buzzed, with the room blurring out of focus, but Dean becoming sharper. Everything felt slightly hazy, and they may have kissed around the booze for hours, he wasn't sure. He did notice though, in extreme disappointment, when Dean's voice rasped out that the whiskey was almost finished.

The thought, as well as his partial inebriation, made his tongue sloppy and his lips clumsy, so he fumbled his mouth while Dean was making the transfer. Three thin trails of the alcohol escaped his mouth and slid down his chin and onto his neck. Dean wasted no time in chasing after them, placing his tongue at the bottom of each line of liquid and lazily lapping up the trails until he reached the blond's mouth. There, he suckled noisily on Sam's swollen lips, finally pulling away with one last wet slurp. Sam sighed and relaxed into him once more.

He was vaguely aware of being picked up, bridal style, and carried to the only bed in the motel room. Even the large, calloused hands the divested him of his shirt failed to alarm him, and he just snuggled up next to the man once he had also laid down, allowing their naked skin to press against each other. Sam sighed a bit, and snuffled into Dean's shoulder, enjoying the scent of sweat, whiskey, leather, gun powder…and pie? He snuggled closer, gave his lips one more lick, and fell asleep.

_TBC…_

**AN: Here we are, sweeties, the next chapter of Miss Samantha, here for your reading pleasure! Yes, I know that there has not been any feminization just yet, but be patient, my dears, you shall see it…sometime. Anyways, I hope you like my weird little lime here, even if it was perhaps a bit more emotion focused that most. Eh, *shrugs*, what're you gonna do, right? **

**Also, I realized a little bit of confusion that might crop up. All the warnings at the beginning of the first chapter are warnings for the whole story, not just that chapter. This is simply because I don't know which chapter it may crop up in, and also, mainly, I want people to be forewarned so that they don't get five chapters into the story before they run into something they hate and then can no longer enjoy the story. So yeah, just wanted to clear that up! Same thing goes for all my stories.**

**Asterisks time!**

***I am not implying that Dean performed sexual favors for his liquor. He did, however, work/hunt/train for it, which is what he's referring to here.**

***In my mind, Dean would go commando as much as possible, so, well, here he is!**

***I also imagine that Dean would do a little man-scaping, so as not to freak out the ladies, yeah?**

***I'm actually not sure what "whiskey kisses" are, but this was the image that came to my mind when I thought of it. Whew! Can someone go buy me a new pair of panties, cuz…Dean…whiskey kiss…Sam…*drools***

**And another thing, I now have an AO3 account, mainly because of the stupid content crackdown, so if things get too sour over here, please check there for any stories. Whew! Now that that's done, Ciao, chickies! **

…**Oh, I just realized that I didn't tell you what my AO3 account name is! Doh! My name there is MostlySane. Alrighty then, this time it's ciao for real, chickies!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Glee is created by Ryan Murphy, and Supernatural by Eric Kripke, and I just can't help but wonder, if they had magical gay ass-babies together, what wonderful ideas would dwell in those babies' brains.**

**Warnings: Same as before, but also slight somnophilia, a little neck fixation, barebacking, and um, whiskey lube(1)? **

Sam woke up to a hard cock grinding into his ass, and a pair of full lips sucking what felt like hickey number three on his neck. He groaned, and tried to turn from his side onto his back, but the man, Dean, was reluctant to be parted from his ass, so he kept him right as he was, and shoved his dick harder into Sam's golden globes.

"Mmph, Dean, what…what," he stopped to yawn hugely and stretch out his left leg till it twitched and trembled at the released stiffness before he could muster the wits to finish his question, "What are you doing?"

"I'm humping your ass, what does it look like I'm doing?" Dean detached his lips from the blond boy's neck with a little smack and kept his mouth away just long enough to rasp out his mocking reply, before he brought his head back down and started on hickey number four. Sam realized that the man was making a ring of hickeys around his neck, and groaned at both the questions it would later bring from his peers and family, as well as the sheer hotness of it.

Just as he had settled down, somehow just knowing that Dean would not take no for an answer, one of Dean's hands slid from where it was resting possessively over the jock's abs up to Sam's mouth. He said nothing, just nudged the boy's mouth, but Sam understood and opened his mouth, lapping at the man's fingers till they dripped with his saliva.

On his way down, Dean paused for just a second to tweak one of Sam's pebbled nipples, before he went further, completely bypassing the blond's morning wood and instead creeping down to his pucker. Dean stroked and rubbed it with spit-wet fingers, and Sam couldn't control the shiver that danced down his spine. He had never done this to himself, and had often wondered that it could even be enjoyable in any way, but the dyslexic boy couldn't deny there was a certain pleasurable sensuality to Dean's slow, lingering exploration.

Dean moved on to hickey number five, this one right on his Adam's apple. Sam moaned this time, pushing his head a bit back and further into the pillow, trying to give his lover more space to work with. Dean gladly took it, finally allowing Sam to turn onto his back, and attacking his neck with all the enthusiasm and hunger of a starving vampire. Sam was pretty sure his neck was gonna be just one big bruise when the man was finished.

Now, Dean's erect prick was being ground down against Sam's own, and the moan that burst out of his mouth at the sensation was completely uncontainable.

"Now…now, you're not humping my…ass," he finally got out between pleasured moans. Dean's mouth released its mouthful of neck.

"No, that's because I'm about to fuck you," he countered. Sam stiffened just a little, before remembering all the other things he had let Dean do, and realizing that this didn't have to be such a big deal. So far, Dean had been careful with him and had done nothing to hurt him, it stood to reason that he would be gentle now.

"Okay," Sam shrugged," but I want more lube that just spit." He wasn't a fool, he had seen anal porn, granted, it was heterosexual, but still, he knew you had to be lubricated properly. Dean grunted before reluctantly pulling himself off of the blond boy and hurrying over to the bottle of whiskey. He grabbed it quickly and made his way back to the bed.

"Whiskey'll do," he murmured as he grabbed one of Sam's long legs and tossed it over his shoulder.

"Hmm, okay, but are you really willing to waste whiskey pouring it into my ass?" Sam couldn't help but ask, one eyebrow raised at the devilish grin Dean shot him.

"Oh, it's not a waste, sweetheart. When I'm done, I'm gonna suck it all back out," the grin spread wider on his face at Sam's moan. It grew even wider yet when he slopped some of the liquid onto his hand and stuck his first knuckle in. Sam tossed his head back with a groan.

"Mmm, that's right baby," he grunted as he worked his whole finger in," You're so tight."

"Ahhh, mmm, more lube, uhhh," Sam groaned and moaned as the older blond worked in another finger. Dean impatiently sloshed some more whiskey on both his hand and Sam's asshole. Then he worked in finger number three. His fingers spread again and again, stretching Sam's clinging walls as the boy writhed on the bed.

"Yeah, you're ready for my cock now, aren't you, baby," Dean's voice was practically all growl as he watched his fingers pump in and out of the grasping hole.

"Oh yes! Put you cock in me, now!" Sam demanded. Dean pulled his fingers out and positioned himself.

"As you wish, darling," he rasped as he pushed himself in deep in one go. Sam thrashed, not sure if he was in pain or pleasure, but sure that he didn't want it to end. Thankfully, Dean held still, allowing the teen to adjust, but he still felt every delicious throb.

"Ohhh…I'm so _full._ Move!" he groaned. The man was only too happy to obey.

He pulled back just a little before pushing back in. He kept up that pace, more rocking into his ass then actually fucking it. Just when Sam felt adjusted enough to complain, he began to pick up the pace, pulling farther out and pushing back in with more force. And so he went, going incrementally harder and faster, harder and faster, until he was powering in.

And then he hit something. Sam was ashamed to admit he probably squealed, both is shock and pleasure as a little spot in him was hit. Dean seemed to zero in on it and pound it mercilessly. Sam keened and wailed, and Dean just kept jackhammering in and out.

The sound of his balls slapping against the jock's ass was loud, but it didn't cover Dean's low grunts. He pulled out completely, and when he didn't immediately thrust back in, Sam gave an impatient whine.

"Yeah, I know you want it, you're a little slut for my cock, aren't you? Don't worry, I'll give you what you want," Dean whispered filthily in the boy's ear, causing his to nod and groan. The blond man helped Sam prop himself up on his hands and knees, using the opportunity to give his ass a good grope. Then, once he was positioned, he pistoned in with no warning.

Sam couldn't even get a breath to shriek as he kept reaming in, slamming Sam's prostrate and bruising his hips with a tight hold. All the teen could do was drop to his elbows and hold on for the ride, because Dean seemed to have no plans of stopping this time.

Before long, Sam could feel it, tingling in his lower stomach and tightening his balls. He opened his mouth to warn his partner, but just then, Dean slammed into his prostrate, and, keeping his cock head pressed against it, grinded into it with a circular motion of his hips. Sam came with a scream.

He thought he would never stop coming, his dick jerking and spurting load after load of spunk onto the motel sheets, while his ass clenched tightly around Dean prick. And just when Sam figured he might finally be done, Dean reached his climax as well, and came with a shout.

His dick squirted deep inside the teen's hole, making his start and then groan at the feeling. Finally, Dean seemed to have spent himself, and he pulled out with a slight "pop". Then he flopped down beside his collapsed partner.

"…So…did you like it?" he panted. Sam, who had just barely mustered the strength to turn his head to the side so he wouldn't smother himself of the pillow, could only groan as he tried to gather the energy to reply.

"Gosh, yes! We have to do that again sometime!" he enthused as best as he could. Dean gave a raspy laugh.

"Do what again? Fuck doggy-style? Yeah, I wanna do you like this again. But I also want you to ride me, forwards and backwards, cowboy. Think you can handle it?" he challenged, that knowing glint reappearing in his eyes.

"Forwards _and backwards?!_ I'll be so bowlegged I wouldn't be able to walk!" he squeaked. Dean laughed again, stretching out a bit before pushing himself up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.

"That's the plan, pardner. Now c'mon, we need to get cleaned up." Sam groaned at his command.

"I'm too tired! You can't possibly expect me to get up after _that,"_ the blond boy whined. The smirk Dean shot him was positively _evil._

"No, I suppose I can't. Which is a real shame, seeing as I promised you I'd suck all the whiskey out of your ass…oh well, some other time, perhaps(2)…" he trailed off disappointedly, however, almost before he finished, Sam had sprung out of the bed and was running towards the bathroom.

"Oh…it seems you're not so tired after al-" Sam interrupted his wry comment.

"Shut up! Now get over here and suck my asshole(3)!" he yelled from the bathroom. Dean chuckled happily as he hurried after his young lover, and genuine smile blooming across his face.

"Your wish is my command, babe!"

_TBC…_

**AN: Mmm, yeah, I think I'll leave you guys here to stew in your juices…not **_**those**_** juices, you perverts! Anyway, hope you liked this little PWP of a chapter. That was approximately three whole Word pages of nothing but smutsy stuff, so you better have enjoyed yourselves! Hopefully, the next chapter will have more plot **_**as well**_** as a lemon, but I make no promises, 'kay?**

**Story Note time!**

**(1)I have no idea if whiskey is an appropriate lube, as I've never tried it before, but I imagine it would work as well as spit, only there's more of it. So yeah, seeing as the weirdest thing I've used for lube is hand soap, anybody who has ever used whiskey or some other alcohol as lube, please review and tell me how that goes!**

**(2)I don't know about you guys, but that is one of my favorite quotes from Disney's **_**The Jungle Book**_**.**

**(3)For those of you who have rightly noticed that Sam is out of character, there are a couple reasons for that:**

**(a) I don't know Sam's character that well, as he's not obviously overbearing like Rachel or Kurt (each in their own loveable ways), or dumb like Finn, or badass like Puck, or bitchy like Santana. He's kinda hard to characterize, so I'm just making him act like how I want him to.**

**(b)He's just been introduced to the (I assume) wide, wonderful world of gay sex, and he's becoming a bit of a nympho. But with Dean doing his thing, can you really blame him?**

**Okay, that's it, so see you next chapter. Ciao, chickies!**


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